Girl's Night Out Too
by Exiled-Away
Summary: Sequel to Girl's Night Out. Repost. Wiffy. Femslash.
1. Chapter 1

Girl's Night Out Too

We are back at the Bronze dancing. It was nice surprise to see that_ 'The Dingoes Ate My Baby'_ were back in business. Devon had dropped by for a brief chat between sets and it was nice to talk about old times.

Though, it wasn't so much fun that it made up for the fact that I was dragged here against my will. Just like I dragged Buffy here last week against hers. It was girl's night out, again.

Only instead me of trying to help Buffy get over Riley; Buffy is now helping me get over Tara. She thinks that Tara left me, that when Tara returned from the Wiccan meeting in LA on Sunday, she had decided to move out. What will remain my secret is it was really me telling Tara I no longer loved her.

How could I keep living a lie? How could I let Tara think that she was my soul mate when she wasn't? How could I keep denying the fact that I was in love with Buffy.

I look up to see Buffy dancing with some guy. She loves to dance, she loves to move for the sheer joy it brings her. She's not the best dancer in the club, nor is she the prettiest girl, but there is just something about her zest for life that attracts people. It's in the way she moves on the dance floor, just like it's in the way she fights--a fluid grace. Buffy is a predator in love with the hunt, in love with the game. It can be any hunt, the best buy at Target, or the Chaos demon about to end the world; it's all the same to her.

I watch her when she's dancing, or when she's fighting, and I almost feel like a voyeur because hunting, or fighting, slaying, it's the same as sex for her. The build up, the chase, the fight, then the climax of the kill. It's all the same and what truly frightens her is that it doesn't matter which she does … and that is her terrible secret.

'_A delicate ferocity'_ that draws people to her like a flame does a moth.

And oh God, sometimes in the darkest of nights she comes to me in my dreams. Not as my best friend, or even as a lover, she enter into my dreams as the Slayer, the conqueror, and I gladly surrender to her.

And that is my terrible secret.

Not only men ask her to dance, women ask too. I remember the first time a woman asked her, she looked at me as if seeking my permission and then Buffy said yes. She danced with … Sonja … I think that was her name… for the rest of night. Then she had to put up with Xander's jokes for a week.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Buffy asks, standing close to me and smiling. She then takes her seat, opens her bottled water and takes a sip. Since the Spike incident last week we've decided that it's safer to just drink bottled water when out.

"Will?" She sounds worried.

"Nothing Buffy, I'm really thinking about … nothing." I finish lamely. What can I tell her? That you confessed your undying love for me just last week and then forgot about it? That I've dreamed of you every night since? I've dreamed of your taste, the way you smell, of those strong hands roaming my body, touching me in ways that no one ever has? I've dreamed of making love to you, the woman, and of being dominated by the beast?

You think that you and the Slayer are different. You don't know who you are or what you can become because you're so terribly frightened?

"Will, you're scaring me," she says, her warm hand on my arm sending a hot fire through my body. I look at it, then up into confused hazel eyes that seem to come alive as I fall into them. I pull away from her gaze and it breaks the spell that held us. She yanks her hand back as if it had been burned and turns away to wave down a waiter. I can tell it's all a tactic to avoid looking at me while the blush rises on her cheeks.

And I let her get away with it; I can't push her … she's too fragile.

While I believe what she said while under the influence of the drug was the truth, I know that I can't rush her. Which is all the more frustrating; I want her, I want to make love to her, I want to share my life with her, I want to see her wake up in the morning and I want go to sleep with her at night until we're 100 years old. And I know that's she's not going to live much longer, so every moment she's not in my arms I feel cheated. One night, maybe tonight, she'll go out to fight the good fight and die.

Then I will never know what she looks like when she climaxes. Or how her face lights up at the sunrise, or see the light shinning in her eyes at Xander's jokes—I don't want her light to burn out—I want to be singed by her flame forever.

"Will?" She's turned back to me recovered. I know I've worried her and I can't stop the tear that runs down my face. "Ah, Willow, I'm sorry." She says, getting up to take me in her arms. Which opens the floodgates because now I can imagine what it would be like for her to take me into her arms for a different reason.

I remember everything about last Friday night; the way she looked at me, the intensity of her desire, her need to make me understand that she loved me. As soon as her lips touched mine I was lost in her. When her tongue asked for entrance it was like she was making love to me.

Gods I want to push her! I want her right now, on the floor of the Bronze would work for me. We're sitting on the high stools so I fit perfectly into the hug.

"I'm sorry Tara left, I liked her," Buffy continues, oblivious to the real reason I'm crying. She's rubbing my back and it's leaving trails of fire everywhere she touches. I can't stop my reaction to it, so I have to push her away before she can _'feel'_ my arousal. Buffy can feel other's emotions; it's like her vampire sense; only with human emotion.

And speaking of her vampire sense; her question at my odd behavior dies on her lips as she gets very still. It's like she's listening to something only she can hear. I feel it, her whatever it is, leave her body and fly out—lightly touching all the patrons of the noisy, crowded club. She turns in a circle, looking up to balcony and now that I'm looking for it, even I can spot the vampire. She's scrawny, with a prison camp appearance that gives the impression of starvation.

"Be right back Will. Hold that thought," Buffy tells me, grabs a stake out of her purse and starts to rush to the stairs. For some reason Devon and the band picks that exact moment to come back from break. If it wasn't that Devon was the leader I'd think it was planned. I got no bad vibes off him earlier so I just think it's bad timing. Still--it causes the dance floor to fill with people--blocking the stairs. Buffy turns to go the other way when she sees the vampire grab a man and sink her fangs in his neck.

I can only watch in fascination as the man's mouth opens in a scream that the music drowns out. And now my spidery sense goes off because from where I'm sitting I see another shadow lurking on the balcony. I start up from my seat just as Buffy gathers herself to jump straight up the 15 feet—it's the only way to save the man.

Right when she jumps I see the shadow move and it's like everything slows down or happens at the same time, or … I don't know. Buffy lands on the balcony behind the feeding vamp and stakes her in one motion, then looks down to see if anyone saw her, I start to wave and point at the vampire rushing up behind her … I think she spots me, she turns with the stake up … and the vampire runs directly into it.

I can tell that the stake found its mark as the vampire's momentum carries it into Buffy, who then slams against the railing. The railing snaps and both the vampire and Buffy start to fall. I watch in horror as Buffy tries to twist in air like a cat to land on her feet, only the vampire stays solid just long enough to throw her balance off, so she lands in a heap on the floor.

My mind goes completely blank for the few seconds that she lays still. I've seen Buffy jump off of 3 and 4 story buildings before so I don't think a 15 foot drop would hurt her under normal circumstances. But then the nagging little voice starts up, _'she couldn't protect herself when she fell, she could have hit her head ….' _

Buffy starts to move and that breaks the paralysis that had gripped me. She grabs her shoulder and I can tell from here it's dislocated. Which is ok, she's had them before, she'll have them again. I push my way through the crowd that's forming around her. She's still lying on the floor when I get there and kneel next to her. She's biting her lower lip to keep from screaming, the pain is so intense. I reach out to touch her arm to see if I can just pop the shoulder back in joint, only she shies away from the touch.

"Don't Will," she forces out through gritted teeth. "It'll stop hurting so bad in a few." Someone taps me on my shoulder and I turn around the see the owner of the Bronze.

"I called for an ambulance," he tells me, over the rumbling of the crowd.

"No! Will, just no." I look into Buffy stricken face. I had thought she had gotten over her hospital fear.

"Buffy that shoulder needs to be tended to and it's …." I'm interrupted when she reaches out her uninjured hand to grab my arm. I could see the spasms ripple down her back and across her shoulders. She has to bite down the cry of pain before it leaves her mouth.

"Willow a hospital is open, it's not safe and I can't defend myself right now," she pronounces words clearly, slowly; the pain so intense she has to force the words out. I know she's right and to make matters worse, I can't protect her in a hospital either. At home, yes, where there are weapons, and some ingredients for my spells.

"Giles'--get me to Giles' place," she tells me and I wonder if she hadn't hit her head.

"Giles is out of town," I remind her. I start looking around at the faces in the crowd wondering how many were vampires or friends of the demon population. "We didn't bring a car and you can't walk."

"I can walk," she tells me, getting to her feet and then nearly goes back down as a spasm makes her entire side clinch. I take her good arm and place it over my shoulders, supporting her.

"You can't fight …" I start thinking the hospital is the only way to go, regardless of the open house for demons. I could call Xander to meet us there, or Tara....

Devon steps up to us then, "Willow I have my van. I wouldn't mind giving you a lift," he says, looking around, just like I was, wondering who the bad guys were.

"I still can't get her to the car," I tell him. "We would be a sitting ducks for even a minor demon trying …" I'm interrupted by two of the Bronze's bouncers; they are carrying huge wooden clubs.

"She's saved our asses more times than we can count; we'll get you to the car," the burly blonde says, and I notice three patrons in sunglasses go and sit back down at the bar. Sunglasses at night … meant demon.

"Ok you win," I know when I'm beaten. Besides, Giles' house is safer and he does have everything there to take care of Buffy. We start toward the door and I'm shocked and pleased to see the band and several of the patrons form up around us, I think I recognize one or two from High School. Either way it doesn't matter because we make it to the van with no problems.

Devon takes a long way to Giles' place, backtracking several times to make sure we aren't followed. Buffy just sits hunched in the back seat looking miserable the entire way. We all have keys to each other's houses just in case, so getting into Giles' apartment isn't a problem. Devon helps Buffy get out of the van, then follows us down the stairs.

Buffy still can't stand to have either her arm or her shoulder touched; which worries me because her Slayer pain tolerance is legendary. A Slayer has to be able to deal with pain in the course of battle, and not to sound flippant about my best friend's injury, a dislocated shoulder for her isn't that serious. Once it's back into place it should be healed by morning.

I open the door and she moves away from Devon and is able to walk into the apartment without help. We know better than to issue invitations after dark but Devon doesn't seem to notice, he just turns to me with a smile and a wink; "I gotta get back to the Bronze."

Without another word he's back up the stairs and out of sight.

I walk into the apartment with a feeling of trepidation. Something is going on in my Slayer's mind and I haven't a clue as to what it could be. I slowly place her jacket, purse, and my coat on the rack next to the door, watching her aimlessly walk around the room. I turn back and make a production about throwing the deadbolt, putting the chain on the door, and charging the wards to keep unwanted visitors out.

It's really an ingenious shield Giles has up; it makes the apartment appear invisible to demons. Instead of trying to use force, he uses guile and it seems to work better.

I know she's watching me, I know her eyes are on me so I compose myself before I turn around. I still can't understand why her Slayerness hasn't taken over yet. I put on my resolve face and turn around. She immediately glances away, then tries to sit in Giles' overstuffed chair casually, only to jump up out of it when her shoulder touches the back.

"Ok Buffy," I tell her, getting the First Aid kit out of the closet. "Sit down on the couch, do you want pills or a shot?"

"No." She answers my question and I'm confused.

"Huh?" I place the First Aid kit on the desk and then look up at her. She's wandered to the window and is staring out of it.

"What do you mean no?" I ask, "No you don't want pills or no you don't want the shot?" I try to clear up what she meant because she was going to need one or the other. Even without the pain she seems to be in, I'm not strong enough to set her shoulder when all her muscles are pulled taut like they are now.

"I'll wait until sunrise and go to the hospital," she tells me from the window. I wish she would turn around so I could see her face. All the normal body language clues I use to figure out what's going on in her head have been rendered useless by her injury.

"Your arm will heal wrong and you didn't want to go …." She stops my protest by turning and raising her hand. Her face is a mask, a mask that I can't read.

"I don't care." The mask from the face passes to her flat unemotional voice. This confuses me as much as frightens me. I can't make Buffy do something she doesn't want to do.

"You aren't making sense. Why don't you want me to fix your shoulder?" I try to understand what's going on and at the same time I'm trying not to take her rejection personally.

I go and stand by her at the window. After a moment I start to reach to touch her.

"Don't!" she shouts, sliding away from me slightly. "I... just don't." And she's beginning to scare me with the way she's acting. I can only think of one thing.

"You don't trust me?" the realization stings. "I helped Giles do this last year …." I start to defend myself and then stop. Maybe it's because she doesn't think I know how to do it. And not what I'm beginning to suspect.

"No, I trust you," she tells me and for the first time I see her lose some of that ironclad control. She looks back to the window and another spasm runs down her side and I see her knees nearly buckle. "I trust you with you my life." The words are just a horse whisper and yet, she knows that I still hear them.

"Buffy" I reach out again to touch her and she shies away from me. She walks carefully to the stairs and sits down on them slowly. I swallow the hurt that I feel because this is about her, something is wrong.

"Ok then, do you want pills or a shot?" I persist, walking around the couch to the desk instead of in front of her. She looks like she's about ready to bolt.

"Neither, just do it," she grimaces.

"Buffy you can't even sit in a chair it hurts so bad …." I plead with her as she moves and tenses on the balls of her feet, half-sitting half-standing.

"I don't care," she says, flatly, and the blank expression is back.

"Well I do damn it." I'm almost at the end of my patience. But when she stands up, looking for the entire world like she's going to bolt out the door, I calm down. She's almost totally helpless and if she leaves …. "Buffy, Giles has very concise instructions on what drugs to use and how to use them. You know he would be very angry with me…."

"Do you want to reduce it or should I wait and go to the hospital?" She asks with the edge of pain tainting her voice now. I still don't understand why she hurts so much.

"No, no!" I quickly reassure her. "I want too. Buffy, I'm not strong enough. You know that from last summer." I remind her of last summer when she was thrown against a crypt and came to Tara's and my doorstep at three in the morning. "Look, you'll only be out for an hour tops, and I have all the weapons and spell ingredients I need to keep you safe."

She walks slowly back to the window. For a moment I think she's debating about jumping through it to escape me. I hear her mumble something only I can't make out the words.

"What?" She's shrinking in front me.

"I can't keep you safe." She turns with such raw emotion in her eyes that I have to take a step back. I look away trying to form an answer. And then I start getting mad at her for making such a big deal about always being in control, always having to protect me from the big bad world.

"Buffy," I start harshly. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a big girl now. I'm becoming a very powerful Witch; I think I can protect myself in a fortified house for a few hours." I tell her and I feel my eyes blazing and the heat of my anger turning my face red. She doesn't react; her expression doesn't change so I continue. "You can't keep me safe right now anyway, in case you haven't noticed." That scored a reaction even if it was only a flinch. "So quit being such a baby and for once just let me take care of you.

"No, you can't," she says heading for the door. And I wonder if I've misread the entire situation as I move to intercept her.

"I did fine last Friday night, remember?" I remind her, and when she stops by the couch I try to back off and let her have a little space. Her eyes are drilling a hole into the floor.

"That didn't matter. You were safe because she was out." Buffy tells me, she spins way to go stand in front on the window again. I sure hope Giles has it locked because I know she's about two seconds from going through it. Then her words catch up to me and now I'm really confused.

"Huh? Buffy you aren't making a lot of sense." I start. "It's like you're talking English and I'm talking English but I have no idea what you are saying." I tell her and it's true. I know I've misread something tonight, I can't figure out what.

Her arm takes that moment to clinch and she can't hold back the small cry of pain.

"Your arm is just getting worse, so sit down on the couch, now!" I order and I'm surprised to see her comply.

"No… Ok… use the good stuff," she bargains, without looking at me.

"Are you in that much pain?" Now she's being contradictory. So I remind her, "That's gonna knock you out for the night?"

"I know, it'll keep you safe," she states flatly. I know I'm not going to get anything else out of her. I realize the couch isn't the best place to set up the weights I'm going to need so I walk up to her.

"Ok, let me help you up the stairs to Giles' bed …." I tell her reaching down intent to help her stand, only she jumps up and away from my touch again. She cries out at the movement.

"Don't touch me," Buffy says, and it hurts me to think that she doesn't want me to help her. She's clinched so tightly, it seems as every muscle locked, and her face is a pale mask of agony. "I can barely control her as it is, your touch …."

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"Just do it now." Buffy pleads sitting back on the couch. "Quickly. I can't protect you much longer."

I can tell that she's really very frightened, so I go to the First Aid kit. Giles keeps perfect records of what drugs he's used and how he thinks Buffy tolerates them. 'The Good Stuff' is actually a veterinary mixture of Ketamine and Valium. I double check the dosages, the expiration dates, and the seals on the vials. I seriously doubt that I could Overdose Buffy, however it's best to be careful.

Once I have everything I go back to her. I have to inject the drugs in her vein so she just holds her good hand out to me. It's as far away from her body as she can get it.

"Ok but we are going to talk about this in the morning," I tell her as I inject the drug.

She looks up at me with the first smile since she hurt herself and nods; "I promise."

And within seconds she's face down on the couch and out of pain for the moment.

I wake the next morning to the sun shining into the window. I must have dozed off after I checked her arm at four. I look at the couch and I have to shake my head to clear the fogginess because I think it's empty. A feeling of dread begins to form in my stomach as I realize that my eyes are right; she's not here.

I want to yell at her that she promised, she's just not here to yell at.

I see a piece of paper on the First Aid kit and the feeling of dread turns into a full scale attack. With shaking hands I pick it up:

_Will,_

_Thanks for taking care of me last night. Sorry I gave you such a hard time, I'd promised Mom I'd be home early and didn't want to worry her. I was afraid that she would take things out on you and I wanted to protect you from her. She can really be a bear sometimes._

_You look so peaceful sleeping I don't want to wake you. I'll call you in a few days, or with Mom and doctors and everything, it might be a couple of weeks._

_Thanks for your help._

_Buffy_

I'm smart enough to know the brush off when I read it. Jean McGee did it to me in First Grade. I know when a friend has decided to end a friendship and leave me. I methodically gather up everything I used last night and put it away. Then I make a notation about the drugs I used and the reaction Buffy had to them in Giles' notebook.

In a daze of hurt I lock up and leave Giles' apartment to go back to my empty dorm room. I know that Buffy's and my friendship is over, she crossed the line in the sand, she purposely lied to me. I think that fact is the most painful for me to accept … she lied.

Buffy broke my trust in her as a friend. As I drag up to my dorm I wonder what I should do? Like Jean McGee should I just let her go or should I fight?

One thing is for sure, something is wrong with the Slayer because Buffy never lies to me or at least never lies to me directly. She will keep quiet before she will lie.

End part 1


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

_`She moved in circles, and those circles moved....'_

By Theodore Roethke.

Tonight everything in my life is going to change. It will change utterly and completely. Whether I'm all snuggled up in my bed or if I'm out hunting Buffy, it doesn't matter. I know it, I feel it, I've been dreaming every night for the past week.

I check the clock and yep, it's exactly two minutes later than the last time I looked at it.

My stomach growls because I haven't eaten since this morning. I haven't been able to keep anything down for the past two days-thus I don't want to eat ..

It's been two weeks since Buffy ducked out on me after I fixed her shoulder. And it's hurt. I didn't know I could hurt like this, like I can't breathe, can't catch my breath because something is missing. Buffy is missing in my life.

I thought I could give her more time, I thought I could be cool with her needing space. Except, my dreams tell me that time just ran out. A dread has been building inside me for the past two weeks, the dreams have been intensifying, and tonight everything has reached the zenith.

Something's coming and I can't stop it. I get up from my bed; it doesn't matter if I'm ready to leave a few minutes early. It's taken me two weeks to prepare for tonight and no matter how yucky my tummy may feel I will stick to my plan, I have too.

I walk around my empty, lonely, dorm room collecting the spells I need, thinking about Buffy. I haven't been able to turn my brain off for the entire two weeks. Something's not right with her, something is very wrong and she won't talk about it. Normally I can tell what's going on in her head; all I have to do with watch her expressive face. It's easy to read her if you just pay attention. Lately it's been impossible.

I know that she's avoiding me because she's never let us be alone. I tried to catch her at home twice last week. Mrs. Summers' answered the door both times, which was good. I'm glad she's recovering so well from her surgery. _'Damn, I'm drifting again_.'

I can tell that Buffy's avoiding me because she's never let us be alone. If I show up at her house, somehow she knows it, and she leaves through the back door. If I walk in on her while she's training at the Magic Box she suddenly has to have Giles show her some a new move.

"Stop this Willow, your tummy is going all yucky again," I say out loud just to hear my voice. Yes, without Tara around and with Buffy avoiding me I am lonely. Thus, the need to speak and make noise.

I have to change my thoughts before I become so upset I break down. I have to think of something to take my mind off the clear rejection I've felt from Buffy. I have to think of... the spell I don't want to use.

After a few seconds I give up. It's either cry here and now, or later in front of Buffy. I have to get this out or I'll just stand in front of her blubbering, when it comes time to talk.

So, ok, let's think about--It.

About the only time we've exchanged more than a word or two was during the weekly Scooby meeting on Thursday. Ergo, the avoidance.

I suddenly realize that I had been standing next to my bookcase, lost in thought for a good five minutes, which means I'm going to be late if I don't hurry up. So I guess I don't have time to do the "touchy feely" get in tune with my emotions bit. I only hope that when the time comes I don't turn into a silent statue or a pile of babbling Willow. I hope I can tell Buffy what I'm feeling and get her to listen, to really listen to me.

I have to stop by my dresser to stock up on pixie dust; it should work on one or two vampires and requires little of my personal magical energy to invoke spells. Actually, most of my defensive spells are low grade energy users so I can use more of them, thus knocking out more targets without knocking me out. The only problem I have in stopping by my dresser--is that it has a picture of Buffy on it--and I nearly start to cry again.

It really doesn't matter if I'm only a few minutes later and I know I have to deal with these... Feelings, now.

I'm so ambulant! To say I'm a little miffed at Buffy's avoidance is like saying the Hoover Dam is a Beaver Dam. After she blew me off two weeks ago, I came home and circled today on my calendar. I did that for several reasons, one I was so angry I wanted to either turn her into a frog or put a truth spell on her. Both of which would be against the ethics I chose when I signed up for the Witchey lifestyle. So I wanted a cooling off period. The second reason was that Buffy might have actually been telling the truth; that she needed to get home to her mother. So I wanted to give her time to come to me and talk about what was going on. Yes, I know, like that would ever happen in this lifetime!'

And the final reason I waited, and it's also the most important reason: I wanted to be able to protect myself from Sunnydale's nightlife. I have the responsibility to Buffy not to take stupid chances with my life. I don't want Buffy to be destroyed because I was dumb.

The fact is: I know that Buffy loves me. I know it. I know she was telling the truth the night Spike gave her the drug. I want to say I know it in my bones, but it's deeper than that. I don't think I'll ever be able to explain other than it's more than love, more than friendship, it's almost like I'm supposed to be a part of her. She would die if I were killed and she wasn't there to protect me.

Love, true love, comes with conditions. The biggest condition of them all is not to take stupid chances with your life.

"Hear that Buffy! You have to tell me what's wrong so I can help fix it! Not being stupid with your life extends to the Slayer, too!" I nearly shout, then cover my mouth with my hands, hoping no one heard me.

It was seven days ago the dreams started. Seven days since I realized that tonight would mean more than a confrontation with Buffy. The dreams were faint at first, just a series of sensations, then over the past three days they grew into full-blown-surround-sound-HD-colorful dreams. It's almost like the dreams are what Buffy calls her _"Slayer dreams."_ The dreams always begin the same way, they just end differently.

I shake myself out of my thoughts; I so cannot do the dream interpretation thing right now.

I glance back at the clock... Well, that's enough dealing for now or I'm going to be too late.

I look at the clock and gather the rest of the supplies I need to go out safely on a Saturday night in Sunnydale. I brought Old Navy Cargo pants and an Army surplus jacket just to carry everything. The name on the coat is A. Smith . I sure hope whoever A. Smith was that she had good luck with it. Now I know I'm delaying the confrontation. The irony is nearly overwhelming, that I'd been waiting for this moment for two weeks and when the time comes I'm late.

Buffy's Saturday night patrol route will almost bring her right to me. Restfield is just three blocks from campus. Close enough that the risk is small, far enough away that Buffy will insist on walking me home.

"Stop delaying and just go, Willow!" I tell myself, I'm worried that this will be the end. That I won't be able to get out of Buffy what I need to and she'll just float out of my life.

I check one last time to make sure I have everything, I can't believe how nervous I am, my palms are sweaty. Well, actually I can believe how nervous I am. My life is going to change after tonight; I know it, I feel it.

I glance around the room one more time; I don't know if I'm delaying or if I really am trying to be careful for Buffy.

I check my spells one last time; I'm very comfortable with most of the spells I carry. I think I could take on as many as five or maybe six vamps at once and survive. But Vamps aren't Glory. There is one spell that I have that I'm not sure will work, nor have I been able to work out all the kinks in it if it did work.

What did I just say about taking chances with your life? The nightmare I had the other night comes back to me: Buffy's lying broken and bloody at the Goddess' feet . I grab up the spell, stuff it in the inside pocket of A. Smith's coat and head out the door. It will be a last resort type thing.

Some chances are worth the risk.

If Buffy follows the route decided upon on during Thursday's meeting then she should be right over that hill; of course it depends on how many vamps she has to fight and where.

_'Then again she might be a little ahead of schedule. . . '_ I think as I see a slight figure crest the hill. The vision is dramatic, the moon rising behind and shining off her bright hair, her head held high and proud. Her gate screams warrior or ancient Goddess, and did I mention proud, well I meant it. With a capital P. Whatever vibe she's giving off it goes straight through me, I want to rush up to her and kiss her; or have her rush down to me and command me. I'm torn as to which one I want to happen the most.

I have to stomp down on the feelings; Buffy will be able to sense them and I really want to have this conversation. Oh Goddess, she is something! It's not so much her beauty because, hey fifty feet away and it's dark-but there's something-her strength? Nah, I can't see her strength, she's just different tonight. There's some kind of current running beneath the surface in her, there is a bright light coming out of her that I thought was the moon and now I'm not so sure.

And damn! I can tell the exact moment that she senses me because there is a tiny hint of a pause in her step and the light is extinguished as if it were never there. The strange feeling of current is also gone and some part of me misses it. Maybe it was all my imagination?

Maybe I just thought I saw it, or felt it? I know I do see her shoulders slump, creating a defeated curve to her neck, and her feet starting dragging with each step she takes. I realize two things at once, that I was right, this was the only the way I was going to get her alone and that she needs to talk to me. That's she's missed me as much as I've missed her.

"Will." She doesn't so much as greet me as acknowledge that I'm here. "She--I mean--I wondered how long it would take you to think of meeting me," Buffy stops in front me, stumbling over the words.

"Buffy, we need to .." .

"Talk?" She finishes for me raising a fine eyebrow. "Yes, I know." She sighs and then motions for me to follow her. "I'll walk you back to the dorm, though it looks like you came hunting for bear." She waves vaguely at my coat and pants.

"Well, a girl's gotta protect herself," I say, trying to lighten the depression I can feel settling over her. "No telling what kind evil is lurking in the night."

"That is true Will," she answers in a defeated voice. "Willow, about that night," what goes unsaid is that I know exactly what night she's talking about. "I don't know what's going on with me, it's just, ever since that enjoining spell I've been feeling kind of weird." She stops and turns toward me and for the first time in weeks she reaches out to me.

Her touch on my cheek is light, gentle, soft. It's hard to believe that the woman before me can literally bend steel with her hands because I barely feel it as she lifts a strand of hair out of my eyes. I can't help the gasp of breath I take; I can't help the fire that burns down my spine when her fingers dance across my face. I see her eyes dilate with desire right before it arcs back at me through her hand.

A profound sense of connection springs up between us, so it's the most natural thing in the world for me to lean slightly down and tilt my head right as she tilts her head left. . . .

It's through this connection that I sense when the first demon nears the top of the hill. That's why I have the spell out before it can reach us. Buffy seems momentary still stunned from our kiss but springs into action fast enough to grab the sword from the demon that I incinerate.

She plants her feet and swings the sword like a baseball player trying to hit a home run at the next demon. The sword slices cleanly through one demon's midsection, only to be stuck in another's shoulder. Three more short demons rush over the hill while Buffy tries to free the sword and I knock them out with a sleep spell.

"Willow we have to run, those are Glory's scabby minions!" Buffy yells, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me down the path. We only get a few feet before more come out of the woods, cutting off our escape. Buffy doesn't stop running she just releases me and changes direction so she's charging directly at the demons. Buffy dodges one demon's swinging sword while kicking another in the head so hard that I hear bones crack. As it falls to the ground she catches its sword.

The next one is decapitated and I watch in fascination as the gore from it arcs high in the air, spraying both her and I. Some of it gets into my eyes and by the time I can see again we are surrounded; surrounded yes, defeated no. Buffy now has a sword in each hand and she's moving so fast she's just a blur. Time seems to slow as she whirls around me slaughtering the demons.

After, I don't know how long, time has no meaning--the Slayer stands tall in middle of the battlefield--still surrounded by demons, only now they're all dead. I'd never seen her move like that, I've never seen her be so ruthless, she hacked them into pieces with their own weapons.

She stands there, and both the light and current have returned. She's covered in gore and blood, and I see at least one long gash that's going to need stitches on her side, but her beauty is stunning. That strange connection is back and I feel her pride and hunger through it. I am being pulled to her as if by a string, I take the first halting step.

Then she turns away from me and all the weird indescribable energy flows out of her. And the bond collapses in on itself. The line to the poem, _'Beyond words, beyond silence ..'_ Runs vaguely through my mind.

She slumps her shoulders and when she looks back at me I feel the a sense of guilt, of shame, and humiliation coming from her.

"So now you've seen," she says sadly, looking away again. I can't speak, I'm still shaking from the battle, from her incredible display.

A blur rams into her, throwing her 30 feet, into and through the side of a crypt.

"She killed all my minions!" Glory stands before me with her hands on her hips. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get good help now-a-days?" The insane God asks me. "I think I should kill you?"

"No," I hear Buffy shout, and we turn to watch her laboriously climb out of the wreckage of the crypt. She falls to the ground, then slowly stands again swaying like a drunk. "Leave her alone," Buffy orders, before going back down to one knee.

"Hey, it's only fair, you kill mine, I kill yours," Glory tells her reasonably. The Goddess walks over to Buffy. "Unless you give me my key?" She asks, hopefully. "Then I'll leave you alone!"

Buffy just shakes her head.

_'I am such an idiot!_' I think, as I reach inside the pocket of my coat and pull out the spell ingredients. I should have had the spell ready to go.

"Ok then, I'll kill your friend." Glory turns back to me, but Buffy jumps on her, knocking her to the ground. "Hey, watch the dress, it's an original!" The God moves so fast my eyes can't follow her.

When she stops Buffy's back on the ground curled in a ball, bleeding. Glory reaches down and pulls her head up by her hair.

"I want you to watch while I kill girlfriend." Then Glory drops her and stalks over to me. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Buffy trying to stand, only to collapse back to the ground. I want to tell her it's ok, I have a plan, only then that would ruin it--or not ruin it--so much as let Glory know about it.

Eek, babbling in my mind, so not smart when an evil Hell-Goddess is about to kill you.

I have to time this spell perfectly, and even if I do it perfectly I'm still not sure it will really work.

I wait until the Evil Hell 'Ho is reaching for me before I throw the marking powder in her face-then I say "Discede!" There's just enough time to see her look of surprise before she's teleported somewhere. . . Else.

"Well that worked better than I thought it would," I tell Buffy slowly walking to her. She's still struggling to stand up, I reach down to offer her a hand up. "We need to get going, between all the demon blood and the magic something is going to.. . . "

Then things suddenly go all wonkey on me, like the earth is moving .. An earthquake?

"Your nose is bleeding Will," Buffy tells as she's finally able to get to her feet. A pressure is building in my head, like a hat that's too tight. My sight is going, too. There are two or three Buffys' instead of one. And the three Buffys are dancing around me in a circle.

"Willow?" They say my name and I have to cover my ears its so loud. I feel her place a trembling arm around my shoulders supporting me when the ground decides to lurch again.

"Will, we have to get gone, I feel more demons coming."

What's happening to me? The pressure just keeps building and building in my head until I think it's just going to explode. I have to get away from it.

"Will?" Buffy catches me before I hit the ground but for some reason she can't hold me up like she normally would be able to do, so we both fall.

I feel her pull me into her lap, and she strokes my hair out of my face. "I'll get us somewhere safe, I promise." She tells me and exhaustion rises up to smother me.

End Part 2


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

When I wake I feel several things at once; strong arms wrapped tightly around my midsection, a warm body pressed against my back, and a shimmery tingling nudging at the edge of my mind. The tingling is just there, it's a part of me, and a part of Buffy so I trust it completely.

I open my eyes to total blackness and yet I'm not afraid or worried because I feel her. Yes, I know she's holding me so closely that I doubt a sheet of paper would fit between us, she's so close that her breath is tickling the back of my neck, but that's not why I don't fear my blindness. The reason is that weird connection is back, the one I felt before the battle with Glory, and through it I can sense everything around me. Like I was able to tell that Glory's demon army was rushing out of the woods and over the hill before they reached us.

I also know that Buffy is very deeply asleep, that's she's in that almost coma-like state she slips into after a major battle or injury. _'I guess being thrown through a two foot thick cement wall after slaughtering 30 scabby demons wore her out?'_ I think, ironically, since I was the one who collapsed from exhaustion. As I become more aware I realize that I am refreshed, healed.

I touch the back of her hand that's wrapped around me. When there is no response either through the connection, or physically, I know that she's out, she is totally gone. Or is she really? If it wasn't for the connection I would think so, now with this--bond--that we have, I'm not so sure. That thought is lost as I marvel at my perceptions, I know we are in a cave or cavern, I know we are in a bed, and I know there isn't another living or dead thing within a mile of us.

I've felt her extend this, this what? Slayer Sense? I've been aware of it before, on the night that Spike tried to ambush us, and I felt it again at the Bronze right before she hurt her shoulder. I've heard Giles say that Buffy could sense demons, I observed her pull away from the physical touch of her friends, and I looked up the meaning of Empath in the dictionary. All words, they are nothing, meaningless, when faced with this. . . Perception. This knowing, I can only feel Buffy, and yet I'm having trouble distinguishing between her sleepy emotions and mine. I never knew that her "spidey sense" was this sensitive; what a joke calling this gift her "spidey sense" as if it were a cartoon. Making light of what must be exhausting filtering through all the input she receives day in and out.

_"So now you've seen .."_ Echoes in my mind, she kills with her hands, she feels each death. _"So now you've seen .."_ Yes, but what exactly did I see?

Like a child in a candy store I play with the bond; I take her hand in both of mine and as I trace the fine bones I realize that if I open my mind I see a shivery light begin to outline her fingers. When I push against the bond, trying to see more, her hand almost becomes invisible again. When I sit still in my own mind, when I let a sleepy contentment wash over me, her hand comes into prefect focus. Then I see her arm. I'm sure I could see everything if I wanted to turn over or move, which I don't.

I continue to examine her hand, it's so beautiful. I test the weight, I compare it against mine, and I'm struck by how tiny she is and it hits me like a sucker punch to the gut that she would have died tonight if I hadn't been there.

And once that thought surfaces I feel my chest begin to tighten as if a giant snake was wrapped around it, squeezing the air out. I can't breathe, the thought of losing her is crushing me--like the tons of rock and blackness all around me. I need air, I need light, I need. . . . I need..

There is a mouth covering mine, strong arms wrap around me, and a small warm body covers my chilled one. And I feel her need, she wants me to let her in, she needs me to open myself up to her and that's what I want too. So I let her in by deepening the kiss, and all of the sudden I can see the cavern as if it's bathed in light. I am momentary stunned into breaking the kiss, into opening my eyes, to darkness. It's confusing, being able to see with my eyes closed. And then it doesn't matter as her hands tangle in my hair and her mouth finds mine again.

I thought there was a connection before, I thought we were close, nothing could prepare me for this, as her small hand strokes down my side leaving a trail of fire. Just kissing her right now is a more profound experience than any I've ever had; it's more inmate than anything I've ever felt. I often teased Tara that I wanted to climb into her, with Buffy I think I can. And I feel Buffy's surprise and wonder begin to arc back to me.

The emotion, the love is building within me, I feel her hands on my body, it's like they are molten fire burning their way across my skin. She takes a gasping breath as my hands dance across her back, trying to touch her everywhere at once. I'm trying to pour this love that I've had bottled up inside me for all these weeks, months, years, into her. I can no longer contain it inside my skin and I must give it to her or else I will die.

There is a building of the tension, the emotion within me, and within her--our love for each other is arcing back and forth through the bond--it is so strong that the cavern is literally glowing with our light. What our hands and mouths are doing is a mirror to what we feel.

And the tension just keep building, growing, bouncing back between us until I think we are going to go up in flames. And we do, we burn, we fuse together, we are locked in one moment, one point in time where we have become, I can't tell where she ends and I begin. We've turned inside out together, we are no longer trapped within our skin.

Our souls are entangled and slowly I become aware of her body, wrapped around me. We are breathing each other's breath we are so close. We can't stay this way, so as I feel her body cool down, I feel her need to turn right side out. Then I begin to be overloaded, this touching, this climbing into her spirit or soul is overwhelming me. I also know that she needs to climb back into her own skin, to pull away from me.

I let her go. I release her in my mind and I let my hands fall to my sides.

Buffy has to have time to understand what just happened and I have to figure out it out, too. I have to know, to examine how we could turn inside out together. She rolls off me so that we aren't even touching physically and I can't help the loneliness that rises up from inside.

"Petite Mort" Little death. Roethke wrote that the separation of self after love making was like death, I always thought it was over dramatic, now I know differently.

So many things I have learned tonight, so many things I still need to know.

_"So now you've seen .."_ That's an echo that follows us still, I need to figure out what it means.

She moves to the other side of bed -- then the bond slams completely shut - out of nowhere the cold rushes up to meet me. I'm left sitting in the dark, unable to see, or sense, anything. I am totally closed back inside myself and I hate it. I reach out to her with my mind and meet a solid wall.

I can't stand not touching her in some way after what we just shared so I move my hand to stroke her back, only I feel the mattress shift as she gets up off the bed.

I curse my blindness.

"Buffy?" I question, after what I just experienced talking seems like a clumsy way to communicate.

"Oh my God, what has she done!" I hear the painful wail come out of the dark and then daylight floods into the chamber from above. When I blink my eyes clear, Buffy is gone through a trap door in the ceiling.

end 3


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

You Darkness

You Darkness, that I come from,

I love you more than all the fires

That fence in the world,

For the fires makes

A circle of light for everyone,

And then no one learns of you.

But the darkness pulls in everything:

Shapes and fires, animals and myself,

How easily it gathers them!-

Powers and people-

And it is possible a great energy

Is moving near me.

I have faith in the nights.--Rilke

"What in the world just happened?" is the first thing I think.

"How dare she!" is the second. I stare at the daylight shining on the floor from the open trapdoor.

"Oh no you don't!" is the third thing.

I'm halfway up the wooden ladder before I realize that I have no clothes on. That makes me stop in mid-step and then all my indignation just begins to drain out of me. All my energy goes with it, so that I end up sitting on the bottom riser staring off into space.

The only thought I have is: _'What in the Hell just happened?'_ It's repeating over and over because I really don't know. I woke up, Buffy and I made love, only it was more than _'making love'_ it was. . . the deepest connection I've ever known.

Buffy was, she was just so beautiful, and so incredibly alive and all her attention was focused just on me. On me, and I was connected to that, to her, to everything, and now I'm not. Now I'm back in my skin, I'm no longer connected with Buffy. I have no weird second or overlapping vision, no sense of what's through the trap door above me

I'm totally alone.

I don't understand how I can doubt her love for me now; but I do. How could she just take off like that if she didn't regret what we did? How could she leave me here in this hole in the ground, after what we just shared?

Unless she didn't? Leave me that is ..

We should still be in bed talking, about what just happened, the connection. Or cuddling, I could go with cuddling, not sitting here alone and cold.

"What just happened?" I ask again, and things don't magically clear up for me. I do begin to feel anger and fear. I am mad at the fates every bit as much as I'm frustrated at her. It's not something as mundane as a relationship issue; it's more, or deeper.

"Oh Buffy, what's wrong with you?" I ask aloud and did I just hear something from above? It doesn't matter if she's still up there or not, she's beyond me at the moment.

I start looking around at the cave, it has a bed, a compact fridge, what looks like Spike's coat hanging from a hook in the wall, and it has a line draped across the middle of the caven with my drying clothes hanging from it.

Well, that answers the issue of clothes, and with that I start having flashes of Buffy holding me up in a lukewarm shower. I remember that we were covered in demon gore, and now that I think of it I can see the stains on my clothes. I have a flash of her touching me, she was being so gentle, so careful, as if I was made of glass. I could feel her worry, too.

I think harder trying to capture the vague images in my mind, but they were more feelings of soft touches and a sense of being loved than actual images. she was worried, she was just so worried. . . . the memory slips away. And I'm upset, saddened that I can't bring it out. I think something might have happened that was important. It's just lost, gone.

I suddenly have to yawn, and I feel so exhausted that all I can think about is how comfortable the bed looks, how it would smell like her, and I want to just climb back into it. Climb back into it and pretend that the sheets and covers are her. That she's still holding me so tightly, that her sleepy emotions are washing over me. . . . I wake when I nearly fall off the stair.

"Come on Willow!" I say the words aloud to shake myself awake. I don't know where I am or if this place is safe without Buffy here. Only, I know I'm safe here, as safe as my dorm room, anyway. I think I asked her about it last night. I wish I could remember!

I have to find her; I know that she wouldn't just leave me here! I know it, so she must be close.

I stumble over to my clothes and notice that the stains aren't as bad as I thought, they look a little rough, but they aren't torn. As I put them on I think about how to find Buffy or make her come out of hiding and then I realize that it's useless. Even if I could she wouldn't talk.

"Why are you so stubborn! You can tell me! You can tell me anything!" I shout at the hole in the ceiling.

Then I whirl around because it was almost like she was in the room with me. I felt her presence so intensely that I'm stunned when I don't see her standing there. Which makes me mad at her for leaving me here.

"Hear that Buffy! This is now your deal!" I shout the words as I pretend that she's standing in front me. "I don't know what's the up with you; I want to help you, I do . I love you damn it!" And the pain of separation washes over me again, making it impossible to breathe. "Oh, God Buffy I don't want to give up, I loved waking up in your arms!. It just can't be one way." I finish sadly.

A shimmery tingling touches the back of my mind for only a second. Just a feather's touch, so light that I'm not really sure it happened. Only if it did, then it means that Buffy does care, maybe she will be able to work her way back to me?

Hope rises up and burns some of the exhaustion away. I hadn't realized that I was on my knees until I taste the salt of my tears.

"Please Buffy, let me in!" I cry to the silence. The feeling is gone. The sense of presence is gone; nothing is left.

I'm so tired by the time I make it back to my dorm that all I want to do is sleep. I took the bus because I realized that Buffy's little hidey hole was on the other side of Sunnydale from the College. Why she carried me there is yet another mystery. The bus ride was horrible with crying babies, teenage lovers who wouldn't speak to each other, and one desperate single mother. All I could do the entire way was sit facing the window hoping that no one would talk to me, and thank God they didn't.

I don't care right now; I don't care about anything except for collapsing into my soft, warm bed. I strip off the clothes and just pass out on the bed, I have no idea what time it is, I have no idea if I had a test today, or even what the day is, all I want to do is sleep.

And I dream:

I find myself outside in the bright sunlight. I'm standing in front of a High School as the classes let out for the day. I don't know how I know this, I just do. I also realize that no one can see me standing here.

My attention is brought to three prissy little girls walking down the sidewalk. And I recognize the Cordelia-like hanger-on's to the one in the middle. She has bright blonde hair and an incredible smile; I instantly feel like I must try to protect her.

I'm drawn to her. She's so tiny and terribly young. There is innocence, a childlike quality about her that makes her absolutely lovely. I see an old man in a suit walk up to her and I feel a deep sense of loss wash over me. I try to stand between them but they look right through me as if I'm not there. The beautiful little girl is about to meet a horrible fate… and then I now recognize her--Buffy.

Buffy before I met her--before she had the guarded look in her eyes--before her eyes turned old. Before I would look into them and wonder if they were that shade of blue because the Slayer was peering out of them, or if the lighting of the room or sun changed the color. Xander and I once spent an entire afternoon discussing Buffy's eyes and how they seemed to change. He was sure it was the light and I? I just didn't know.

Now I know, I am drawn to watching her eyes as she sits there talking to the old man, she sounds so confused, so incredibly fragile. Her eyes are a brilliant green in the bright afternoon sun, even as I observe her conversation with this man--a man that has Watcher written all over his face, his clothes, his self importance--I start to see a her eyes changing, I begin to see tiny hint of blue fire peeking out.

_'So now you've seen ..' _

And the truth is starting to form in my mind. The truth that I'd known all along and didn't want to face. The truth is staring at the man, Buffy's first Watcher, and he sees it, he knows he has the right little girl ... the truth is the Slayer.

I sit down on the stairs next to her; I want to beg her not to go with Merrick, his name was Merrick. I'm sick and wish I've never seen the untouched light Buffy had before she was called.

The scene stops and then flows again, only now it's night. I see a flash of blonde hair behind some trees so I go to her. I can't help myself, I have to follow wherever she might lead me.

She's sitting on the ground with the old man's head in her lap. The fact that her first Watcher was killed never really hit me before. I knew the facts, just not what it meant.

She's sitting there crying, no, not so much crying as whispering to him to wake up, to please not be dead. That's she's so sorry! She only wanted to feel what it was like to be normal one last time. She's begging him to live, she wants him to please live and let her die instead. She would doing anything if he would just wake up. She'd do anything to stop the pain, to know that this isn't her fault. Anything.

_'So now you've seen ..'_

The green in her eyes is the color of fresh spring grass, made brighter because of her tears. A boy comes up to her, he's talking to her and she's trying to listen. Trying to draw comfort from him, I can see little threads of white magical light leave her heart and touch his--it doesn't work--he can't feel her pain. So the light sadly withdrawals, she can't make him something he isn't.

I hear a sound and she does too. Instantly her eyes change into the blue fire and now I'm sure.

_'So_ _now you've seen,'_ yes, I have, more importantly, now I think I know.

An insistent sense that someone is in the room wakes me... it's dark, so I don't know how long I was asleep. I lay still and listen for someone or something. The air has a current to it, an intensity, like before a storm.

I know that someone is in here with me, I know it. I don't hear anything, and I can't see in the dark without that weird second sight thing Buffy did last night. My heart is racing, and I feel sweat begin to bead on my forehead and still I hear no movement, not even breathing--I should think vampire--I don't.

I'm safe.

How do I know that?

I just do, the current is familiar and I remember feeling it last night with Buffy.

When I realize that I its Buffy I can calm my racing heart enough to feel the tingling in the back of my mind.

"It's me," Buffy's voice. No vampire, no Hell God. Just Buffy.

Just Buffy? And more odd behavior; visiting me in the middle of the night, after, after this morning. I sit up in the middle of my bed trying to see her. My anger from this morning comes rushing back, then the grief from the dream.

"What are," my throat is dry so the words croak out. I stop and swallow. "What are you doing here?"

"When Giles couldn't reach you all day I got worried," she answers, simply, with no emotions whatsoever invading her voice. And now that I'm beginning to wake up I smell what could only be bagels and mochas.

"I turned on my answering machine before going out last night and forgot it this morning." I tell her, glancing at the angry flashing red light of the device. Trying to gather my wits, trying to figure out what's happening now. If my dream was real or not.

I hear her move and the lamp on the desk flashes on-blinding me. When I'm able to blink my sight clear I see her standing by the desk with the bagel bag in her hand and she's just staring at me. I follow her eyes and realize that I'm still naked.

I glance back at Buffy: A deep red blush is forming at the base of her neck and the tingling in the back of my mind turns solid between us. I can almost see lightening arcing back and forth. I feel a tension forming in my belly and moving up my spine to my head. The tension meets or forms right between my eyes, and I feel something expanding, growing, or opening--then the strange energy just flares out through the air answering the same calling from her.

And the duel sight is back all of a sudden, it's less confusing now that I know what's happening. But no less awe inspiring as I see two Buffys, one made of golden light with a hint of blue, and one the Buffy I know.

The word aura flows into my fuzzed brain. That's Buffy's spirit or soul, I think.

But it's the solid Buffy that I concentrate on to keep grounded because the storm of need and desire has started again. I watch her as the deep blush covers her face, I can see the pulse at the base of her neck pounding between shallow breaths. I see her eyes deepen in color and in longing.

I feel something almost explode out of me and a white cord reaches for her. I look down and see that the strand of light is coming out of my heart. It looks exactly the same as I in the dream. It wraps around the golden Buffy, it's absorbed into her heart. The bag drops from her nerveless fingers, and I'm mildly happy that the Mocha's are sitting safely on my desk.

I am so confused and yet at the same time, everything feels so right. This being connected to her is like coming home after a long journey.

"This was a mistake--I shouldn't have come--I can't control her." Buffy says as her eyes briefly flash blue only to fade back into dark green. She wants me, she wants me in her arms so badly I can see the tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

I force a stillness inside of me, I'm just barely able to stop my need from arcing back to her. We have to talk about what's happening to Buffy and if one of us isn't in control then we will end up back in bed. Not that it's a bad thing--making love to her--she just can't handle it right now.

Buffy has a look of complete and utter shock on her face. I sense that she about to bolt and I can't have that happening, not again. I don't know how I do it but I pull on the cord between us and she takes a halting step towards me, the lightening show between us flaring up. She's trying to back up, back away both physically and inside. I feel her as she tries to separate us from the connection--her fear burning through it. The storm around us intensifies as she struggles to be free.

I won't have it this time. I won't let her go, I won't wait, I won't be patient, and I won't let her go. Did I mention not letting her go? Buffy could have died last night and for just this one time I'm going to be selfish and demand she stay.

I yank harder on the cord and she is nearly knocked off her feet as she's pulled another step closer to me. The expression on her face changes from desire to terror and her eyes are dilated for an entirely new reason. She's fighting me, and she's also fighting herself as her aura flashes with reds and blues.

"I love you Buffy!" I tell her out loud. I want her to hear the words and, just like with magic, the words form a focus point for me. "I love you, you're safe, just let go." I repeat it over and over.

I stop pulling on her, I can see the battle she's raging within herself and I now have some idea of what's happening. I don't yank on our connection or try to control her through it; I just pour all my love into her.

"You don't understand, she's not safe!" Buffy yells back at me, desperate. "She's all want, take, have, like Faith!"

"I love you, just let go!" I don't know where those words come from but they seem to be hitting the mark.

"She raped you this morning! I can't let her hurt you!" Buffy is crying, the hot tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Buffy," I stand up from the bed, letting the covers fall so my best friend, lover, will see my nudity and know I have nothing to hide. "Buffy, she loves me and would never do anything to me I didn't want. You could never do anything I didn't want to happen."

I lessen the hold the white cord has on her and allow her to turn away. I watch as she sobs into her hands. I can't touch her physically right now because our perceptions are too intense. Contact would throw it out of control.

"I wanted to make love to you this morning," I tell her, and I realize that all my walls are crumbling along with hers. The fear rushes up from inside me but I stomp it down. "It's always been you, since the first moment I saw you.."

Buffy pulls in a deep breath, I sense her fighting to stay calm. After a few moments she turns back around, her face a mask of uncertainly.

"She's not safe," Buffy repeats.

"I know," I answer, and I do know. I remember the pain she was in when she hurt her shoulder, or how Glory was able to easily defeat her, or how she couldn't hold me up after the fight, was it only last night? If she can't trust the Slayer then one of these days she's gonna get killed. And what's worse is that Buffy knows it, too.

"She's not safe," Buffy repeats, yet again. The tears flowing freely but no longer with a hysterical edge. I sense a shift within her. She's always trusted me with the small things. Now she's fighting to trust me now.

I watch Buffy take a huge breath and as she's releasing it I feel it catch . then surrender. and her expression transforms into total love, total acceptance, and the tears stop flowing down her face and the look of innocence washes over it.

The connection changes, it grows darker, more intense, more dangerous. I look at Buffy's aura and instead of being golden with a blue tint, its now mostly a deep dark navy. Almost black.

The connection between us now calls to something long buried inside me. Something so old that I'd forgotten it was ever there and now I know who is standing before me. Who I called to me. . . .

The Slayer.

The End of Part Four


	5. Chapter 5

Part Five

The Slayer.

As I stand there in shock the bond changes from gold and light blue to a deep rich navy-yet it feels the same-so I guess it's not really something different. It's confusing to me that all the ties and connections are intact, as they were with Buffy, but now they have changed in color just not in texture. They appear different as I look down at them, and I realize I'm not getting the feedback from the Slayer that I was from Buffy. The Slayer has total control of what she releases through the connections, Buffy does not.

I watch the Slayer as she stands there, her hands relaxed at her sides, and I feel a wary watchfulness through the bond. There is no internal fight within the Slayer. She is what she is. She is like a state of being, she's alive for only this moment.

Some of my biblical training comes back to me and the words _'I am what I am'_ float through my stunned mind. Not that the Slayer is God. No, she's more like a panther, a hunter, and a protector of the people that she loves. She also has the predator's focus and control.

I feel like I am her prey.

My mind keeps trying to label her. To put into words something that is untouchable; because if I don't then it's free to conjure up other things, other images. Other thoughts like what her skin tasted like. Would it be silky smooth with the steel corded muscles under it?

I have to close my eyes and clench my hands by my side just to keep from taking the two steps necessary to find out. After, I don't know how long, I trust myself enough to open my eyes.

The Slayer hasn't moved, thank God. She's been waiting for me to gain some control because now I feel pure love pouring through the ties, love that has no agenda. Love not tainted by the wants of the flesh, it is pure, innocent.

It steals my breath away and heat rises up from my center because she might not have an agenda but my body does. My skin becomes hyper-sensitive to the point where the air brushing against it is a caress. No, it's not the air, she's caressing me through the bond. I see the colors around us change and sparkle as this intense need runs out from me in answer to her mental touch. I watch as she takes it in and she holds it within her, somehow she holds it so that it doesn't bounce back at me.

And the part of my mind that has to label things is once again impressed at her control.

The other part of me, the part that I keep hidden, the part I force down and only let it come out at night in my dreams, cries out in disappointment. I want an excuse to repeat what we did this morning. I want to be able to let her have me.

My harsh breathing fills the air, and the urge to go to her, to let her take me in her strong arms is so overwhelming that I have to turn my back on her. I ache, I literally ache with the need to have her warm lips touching mine, to have her powerful arms wrap tightly around me. I need to surrender to her, let her totally consume me in anyway that she wants, anyway she desires.

I take deep breaths to calm my pounding heart. I see the T-shirt that I sleep in bundled up on the bed and grab it. I hope that by putting it on I'll have some armor against my own hunger.

I know what's she's doing, what the Slayer is doing. She's stalking me with my emotions. The Slayer feels my desire through the connections, she knows all she has to do is wait. And when I go to her, when I let her have me. . . .

The Slayer has total control over her side of the bond; she won't let it run wild like this morning.

I walk around to the other side of the bed, placing it between us.

And another bit clicks into place. I try to grab onto the thought before it slips away. It wasn't the Slayer that made love to me this morning, it was Buffy. I know this because I was hurt and worried about Buffy dying, while she was hurt and worried about me. The two emotions melded together, we fed them back to each other-we got caught up in a feedback loop. The Slayer has control. Buffy does not.

I feel a tiny questioning touch in the back of my mind; like someone tapping me on the shoulder. So I turn around to see the Slayer standing right next to me. I hadn't heard her approach, nor did I feel her through the bond that we are still sharing. Her closeness startles me.

The words echo in my mind. _"She's not safe."_ That's true, but you aren't safe either, Buffy.

The Slayer is just so strong, so golden, I have no control as I reach my hand out to run it through silky blonde hair. Something very old and dark is trying to break free from me. Terror wells up inside at what I feel uncurling deep in my mind. She leans into my caress so I use my thumb to trace the fine line between her jaw and neck. I see the shiver that my touch causes run down her back. I am less than a second away from tasting her lips, from letting her have me, just so I can get lost in her warmth, in her ferocity.

I look into her eyes, and . . . I see fear?

I am literally drowning in her love and in my passion, my need, but I still see fear in her eyes?

Not the wild Hunter that is in total control.

I find Buffy staring out at me. Not the Slayer? I just don't understand?

I blink trying to comprehend, to reconcile what I see, and I am now able to find her terror within the bond. She is hiding it, no...no she isn't. She is incapable of hiding ... anything.

Her eyes are blue! The Slayer, the Hunter, the Panther's eyes are blue!

Are Buffy's eyes full of fear that I'll reject her or is she afraid I'll reject the Slayer?

I want to stop my mind from working, I want to go back to the place I was just a few moments ago. . . I can't because the labeling part of my mind has taken over my thoughts. I feel paralyzed as my hand freezes in place and I start to study her expressive face. Yes, there is the feral stillness of the Slayer and there is also the innocence of the 15-year-old from my dream and over it all is the thing that makes her uniquely Buffy.

I'm finally able to drop my hand and take a step back from her as I quickly run through everything I've seen and felt the past few days: it all comes down to a dual nature, a separate personality between Buffy and the Slayer. Only I know what I'm seeing now, as her eyes look away from mine and she turns her back to me, crossing her arms in a purely defensive and completely Buffy way.

Now that I'm calming down I can see all of her and I wonder if all my assumptions are wrong. Maybe the Slayer doesn't have better control over the bond than Buffy, maybe it because Buffy just shut her emotions down?

Is it out of fear that I'll reject her-as Buffy has rejected the Slayer since she was Called?

Then it hits me, it hits me so hard that I nearly double over and would have if I didn't know that Buffy could feel everything. I am such a damn idiot sometimes, for supposedly being so smart I am so dumb. The insight literally burns me from the inside out and I watch The Slayer turn back to me, her face a mask of confusion and shock. I realize that she doesn't know what I'm thinking, the bond only allows for emotions.

I nearly cry out in relief because what I just figured out must remain my secret-The Slayer doesn't exist, or well, it does in the sense of the word like Dawn is the Key. The Slayer is mystical energy, period.

That's why I couldn't figure out what was going on with my dear sweet lover, she didn't understand it herself. She was told at15 that she had to save the world and since that moment she has nearly killed herself trying to accomplish that impossible task. The vision of my dream, and of that poor innocent girl Buffy used to be, rushes up to engulf me. I can't stop myself this time from doubling over in grief and pain. Strong arms go around my shoulders to support me, then my legs give out and I start to crumble to the floor like I'm crumbling inside.

She lifts me effortlessly and cradles me against her. The bond opens slightly so that I can feel more of her love. The sense of safety washes over me like warm water taking the grief and remorse away with it. I revel in both the emotional closeness and physical touching. I wrap my arms around her neck as she glides to my bed and slowly, carefully, places me on top of it.

Cherished.

That's a word that I fully comprehend the meaning of right now. That's what I am. I am cherished by Buffy, I savor the experience of being loved this much by such a powerful woman. The desire to pull her down with me, to let my mouth find hers, to let our lips touch like our souls, is nearly overwhelming.

I don't, I can't.

The incongruity that a part of this incredible woman is mature beyond her years is offset by what I've just realized. I just figured out that another part of her is still that 15-year-old struggling to keep her innocence intact. She has just given me a gift beyond all measure . all her strength and intensity is just the outer shell that she shows the world or even that she believes is her true self…when in fact Buffy is that 15-year-old that wants the world to love her in the most childish of ways.

It was the 15-year-old that just looked at me with such innocence and recognition when I had asked for the Slayer. We sometimes have to find acceptance in the eyes of others before we can truly believe in ourselves.

That's what Buffy wants, for me to accept the Slayer because then and only then will she finally be able to accept herself.

The Hunter that kills with her hands-the touch sensitive empath that feels each death in her soul-and enjoys it.

I'm brought back from my thoughts by her releasing me. I think she expected me to reach up to her, to pull her down into a kiss because now one tiny piece of the bond closes down and she stands up, backing away from the bed. Gone is the grace of the panther, back are the insecurities of the girl. And I am cursed with my own inadequacies because I know how fragile she is right now and, yet, I am frozen in my own fear of doing the wrong thing.

I don't want to cause her more pain.

There is a popping sound that only I can hear and another tie has been severed while I lay here racked with indecision. She backs up, flees to the other side of the room and still I hesitate. All I have to do is send love and reassurance down our heart bond, through the white light that connects us at our most delicate and mightiest link.

I can't.

I can't help it, I don't know what to do. I see the defeated curve of her neck and her bent shoulders, and I know that she is taking my confusion for rejection. She thinks that having seen the Slayer I am rejecting it, which means I am rejecting her, too.

"Buffy," I start trying to explain my fear of hurting her. Even as I know that my silence causes her more anguish then doing or saying the wrong thing ever could.

The quiet pop sounds from another connection and I lose a piece of her to my fright.

I am losing her, I am losing her in a way that is more final than death.

"No Will, it's ok." She says sadly over her shoulder as the last of the fire fizzles out between us. I watch as our soul connection dulls and then the light goes out.

I am left alone.

And this pisses me off! She dumps all this on me and then when I'm not all superwoman with the accepting she's walking out. She's giving up on us, on me.

"Oh no you don't!" I shout, "not again!"

I don't think, I react. I fly out of my bed and tackle her.

I know I shouldn't knock her down but I do and I roll her over so I have her pinned to the floor. I know the Slayer is about one second away from throwing me off of her. So I do the only thing I think of: I grab her head between my hands and I kiss her. I force my mouth over hers and then force entrance with my tongue. It's rough, it's hard, and it's born from desperation. She's a touch sensitive empath-well we are certainly touching now.

Then I feel her giving up, giving in, surrendering. And the slight tingling is back so I grab onto it and force the bond open again between us. I'm not sure if what I'm doing is morally correct and I really don't care, I pour every once of frustration, love, and anger through it at her. I feel wetness on my hands and I pause the kiss long enough to look at her face and see tears streaming out of her eyes. Before I can pull away I'm flipped over onto my back and her mouth finds mine.

"They're not what you think," she whispers between kisses. "I'm happy."

And suddenly I don't care if she's the 15 year old girl, or the Slayer, or Buffy-she's the woman that I love and I'm going to show her just how loved she is at this moment.

"The bed is better than the floor." I tell her and as she stands up I push so hard that she falls on top of bed and then I jump on her, straddling her tiny waist.

Again I hold her head in my hands and force the white cord of our soul connection to reform so there will be no doubt about my words. "I love you, no matter what you think you have to be or who you are, no hiding, no running...I love you."

She answers with a nod and the connection between us deepens as we both accept our places, Slayer and Witch, lovers and friends.

The End


End file.
